


(A Little Less Conversation) A Little More Action, Please

by crossroadswrite



Series: beAUtiful tropes (au-a-thon challenge) [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Airplane, Alternate Universe - Assassins, Assassin Allison Argent, Assassin Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Flight Attendant Allison Argent, Inacurate Depections of Murder, Off Scene Murder, Week 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3214622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/pseuds/crossroadswrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which I bend a cutesy prompt and turn it into an assassins au with my two favortie borderline psychopaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(A Little Less Conversation) A Little More Action, Please

**Author's Note:**

> My hand slipped.
> 
> Title taken from A Little Less Conversation by Elvis Presley.

“Sorry, I’m really sorry,” the cute guy from seat 26C is saying with an apologetic wince, “I’m really clumsy. Also airplanes. I tend to get a little jittery you know.”

Allison gives him a smile, makes sure her cheeks are dimpling in part because he’s adorable and she still has to look the part of flight attendant.

“That’s alright, it’s no trouble at all.”

It’s a little bit of trouble, truth be told. It’s the fifth time the guy ‘accidentally’ clicked on the call button and always when Allison was the one who had to come over and answer it. Maybe this is his misguided attempt at flirting. Who knows boys can be immature like that.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeats, amber eyes earnest, “I’ll try to keep my limbs to myself,” he laughs awkwardly.

Allison gives him a smile and nods, before turning to walk away.

She still needs to sneak into first class, somehow get her target alone and kill them without much of a fuss. The flight attendant gig was easy enough to get, especially with her fluent French and it suited her just fine since no one ever suspects the flight attendants.

Her target gets up to go to the bathroom and this is her chance, she moves swiftly towards them, eyes intent and hand straying to where she’s keeping her little dagger. Marcy’s hand on her arm stops her from advancing and Allison just has enough time to plaster a nice smile on her face and slide the dagger back in its place.

“Do you mind checking sit 26C again? Please?” Marcy asks wearily.

Allison clenches her jaw for a second, allows herself to feel the frustration before she relaxes.

“Of course,” she says turning around and heading back, expertly dodging stray hands that try to grope her. Men are _pigs_.

She schools her face into one of slight annoyance, ready to shatter the flirtation attempts of the guy who was sitting there – it really doesn’t matter how cute he was she just can’t give herself the luxury of leaving this plane without annihilating her target first.

Except when she gets there, the seat is empty and the call button has been jammed so it’s always on.

 _Shit_.

“Did you see where the man sitting here went?” she asks as nicely as she can to the person sitting next to the now empty seat.

The woman takes her eyes begrudgingly out of her book, “Bathroom I think. And thank God he wouldn’t _shut up_ for a second.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, hurrying to check the bathrooms in first class.

26C person is just leaving the bathroom, eyes going wide for the slightest fraction of a second when they spot her before relaxing into a trained nervous grin, “These bathrooms are much nicer. I hope you don’t mind,” he winks, trying to side step her.

Allison grabs him, all nice warm smiles as she shoves him against the bathroom door.

The man grunts before huffing a laugh, “I wouldn’t knock, it’s occupied and something tells me the gentleman is going to take some time in there, Miss Argent.”

Allison twists his arm a little more forcefully, “Stilinski?” she guesses.

There’s only been one assassin that’s had as many confirmed kills as her and operates with the same level of stealth.

Stiles Stilinski, no known first name, supposedly recruited after his father died, he was still fresh out of high school and with little to no experience, only the kill of his father’s murderer on his sleeve to get him into the business.

“Give the lady a prize,” he crows, “Now, _Allison_ , if you could let the very nice passenger go before another flight attendant comes along and sees us in such a compromising position. They might fire you and we don’t want that now do we. Mr. Argent would be _sad_ if I got his favorite daughter fired from her fake job.”

Allison lets him go, quickly makes him spin around before pressing herself up against him a coy smile on her lips.

“You know a lot,” she breathes, batting her eyelashes.

“We’re under the same employer, I should.”

“Rumor has it you were the one who killed my grandfather and aunt.”

“Rumor has it craziness runs in the family let’s hope that’s not true. It’d be a pity if you joined them.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Stiles hums, grins down at her and leans a little closer, so their lips are one breath away from touching, “Threatening the boss’ precious girl? _Never_. I like you, It’d be a pity if we never got to work together.”

“I thought you worked alone.”

“So do you, doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun, right? Aren’t you _bored_ of this kind of gigs. Something tells me your daddy would let you go after bigger fish if you had an escort.”

He places a hand on her hip, not griping, not pushing, just resting there with the slightest pressure – a point of contact for the sake of it.

“I’ll consider it.”

“Have to ask boss’ permission first?”

“Sure.”

“Liar,” Stiles laughs, “everyone knows you basically run the company.”

“Do I?”

“You do. I better return to my seat, thank you for your help, Miss Argent,” he slips away from her, dragging his long fingers tantalizingly across her stomach, “You know where to find me.”

“No I don’t.”

“But you will anyway. You’re that smart,” he winks and disappears behind the curtain separating classes.

Allison allows herself to stand there for a minute, eyes lingering where Stiles Stilinski just disappeared to.

She considers it for a minute. He is cute, a little dangerous – the kind of dangerous Allison herself is and likes to associate with, the innocent looking kind that cut deeper than any mean looking guy – and he looks like fun. It’s been some time since Allison had fun and maybe that’s just what she needs.

A little fun in the form of a lean, deceptively muscular guy with a too wide smile and a tendency to murder people in creative ways.

She decides she has a call to make as soon as the plane lands, but meanwhile she has to play hostess and pretend she knows nothing about the murdered guy the other side of the bathroom door.

(They find Allison’s target’s body in the bathroom, apparently just keeled over and died with no apparent cause. Everyone is baffled, except Allison who can immediately recognize the signs of asphyxiation, even if there are no bruising whatsoever.

Stiles passes by her with a pillow under his arm and no pillow case, a wide, pleased smile on his face.

“I can’t sleep without my pillow,” he’ll tell her later with a laugh, and the best thing is that he won’t even be lying. He just grabbed something that could in one way be seen as a weakness as something predictable that could pin him down, and fashioned it into a weapon.)

(And if six months later they become the most kickass assassins team Argent Inc. as seen, well that’s an entire new set of fun things to delve into later.)

**Author's Note:**

> [Hallo.](http://crossroadswrite.tumblr.com)


End file.
